Broken Hearted
by Aletta-Feather
Summary: Martha has gone to Bolton to start anew, whereas Clive has become Head of Chambers at Shoe Lane. A few years go by, when some sudden and upsetting events, cause Clive to see if their relationship can be salvaged. His marriage to Harriet is but one of the obstacles between them.
1. Chapter 1

Brokenhearted

A/N: So this is a little different. Imagine being Harriet, or anyone else for that matter, stuck between Martha and Clive… Well, you wouldn't stand a chance, would you?

This will probably be two or three chapters, with the first one mainly about Clive and Harriet and their marital problems and the other(s) about Martha and Clive.

Any resemblance to a scene out of the Half Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling (not sure if it's in the movie, book, or both) is purely coincidental (not!) Always loved that bit!

I've found Clive/Harriet a little hard to write and am not entirely sure if their fighting is in character or perhaps a little too tame. Anyway, I guess in wanting to keep them likable, I may have kept it all a bit too civil and apologetic. The ending of their marriage is therefore more tragic than angry, I guess, as both of them shoulder the blame.

* * *

Chapter 1

Clive hid his face in his hands, seated at his office at Shoe Lane, sighing deeply. He'd had the most horrible night… At least, here in the solitude, he could rest. It was still quite early in the morning as the birds were still rising…

He found himself remembering that conversation long ago…

"I miss you, Marth…." She'd stopped in her tracks at that.

"We were always together, every step of the way… As pupils…" He'd faltered for a moment. "I can't deny it didn't hurt you getting Silk… I wasn't going to mention it… but, well, we always tell each other everything, don't we?"

The atmosphere between them had cleared up significantly after that…

If only it had stopped at that… But they had been at it again… Nothing had changed in that respect. This time for Head of Chambers, and he had won! But Martha had left…. To Bolton of all places… Fled back home.

Clive wondered what a psychologist would have to say about his constant need to prove himself, to outshine her… He didn't like them much himself… They were useful enough, but also tricky, on the stand. It all depended on the jury, and if you were pleading for or against them…

Simple decent folks—a wry smile crossed his lips, Martha would have scolded him for being patronizing—would see them as experts, believe whatever they said. Simple, but more skeptic people on the other hand, would perceive it as hogwash, believing that people needed to buckle up instead, which could turn them against your client. And, Clive had to admit, more sophisticated, educated people, basically fell into the same two groups: skeptics and believers. Something that was pretty hard to figure out by just looking at their faces… making the whole 'use a criminal psychologist' a difficult move for both defence and prosecution.

He sighed again. If only he hadn't been so damn stubborn! If only she hadn't!

Clive wasn't a believer anymore… perhaps he never had been…

He and Martha had had endless discussion about her staying or leaving. He had pleaded with her, threatened her even… A position over there would hurt her career! She should stay here, in London! But she hadn't, bolted of to Bolton instead… where, as far as he knew, she might as well be lying in the arms of one of her other Northern old flames this very moment….

Of course, he had been keeping tabs on her… She'd become Head of Chambers herself not long after she'd arrived. Martha had joined a small but respectable set of chambers, and as there was only one other QC in the race, as the previous Head of Chambers wanted to retire, she had won. The man she'd been running against had not liked the outcome and had taken a considerable (though admittedly not the majority) of the others with him, leaving Martha with a smaller, but devoted set. She'd weathered the storm…. Like he knew she would…

Clive wondered if he would weather the storms in his life…. He had been prideful, had resented Martha for leaving….and had, with his stupid, stupid head decided that dating Harriet instead was a wise move to make… They'd become a bit of a power couple….

Not a very happy one at that…

* * *

A few weeks ago, something big had happened… Their relationship had deteriorated before that moment, but even more so afterwards …

Clive had been in court, pleading his case. He did some defence work again as he was secretly hoping to be tapped for judge one of these days… It was far too early in his career for that, but a man could dream, couldn't he? A young woman had been tricked into helping her boyfriend steal from old ladies. Very despicable act, of course, and the prosecution had pointed this out. Clive had gone with the approach of claiming ignorance on his client's part. She wasn't too bright, so it was believable enough… On the other hand, she would do anything for the guy, only caring about him, not bothering with morals…

It wasn't technically a Silk's case, but as one of the ladies that had been robbed, had, in fact, been a Lady, the case had gotten a lot of attention. Somewhere during his closing plea, he had felt light-headed and passed out…. Fainted like a corset-wearing noblewoman…

As he had been unconscious for quite a while, Clive had been brought to the hospital, and just when he had woken up, his wife of nearly two years, Harriet, had walked in, overhearing a rather odd and hopelessly embarrassing conversation:

"Can you count my fingers?" Clive saw that he held three fingers in the air, right in front of his face.

"Three," he grumbled.

"And rather than asking you what day of the week it is… Do you know, by the way?"

"Monday," Clive said wearily…

"I'll ask you, in the spirit of Valentine's day," the male nurse continued, as the female one began to giggle, "whom your heart belongs to…?"

It was a routine they did every year, which made for a nice break during the otherwise boring questions…

Before he even registered the name, it had already passed his lips in a whisper: "Martha…"

"And here she is now…" the female nurse said, in that cheery voice they used especially for the sick…

"No, she's not…" Harriet snapped as she glared at him. "_She_ is merely his wife…."

"Harry…" he whispered, swallowing hard, "have you heard what happened…? How?"

"The doctor will be here soon," the male nurse said, "in just a minute, and she'll explain…"

Harriet stood beside him, wondering if she should take his hand to comfort him. She'd left Shoe Lane the moment she heard the news, but she wasn't too inclined to be friendly. If he asked her to contact Martha, she would scream!

* * *

It turned out he had a heart condition that he didn't know about… He'd been lucky, it could have been a lot worse, they'd got there just in time, the doctor had told him.

Now he had to keep calm, cut down on his drinking, on coffee, on just about anything good really… On his hours too… Clive had seen the dream of once becoming a judge dissolve in front of his eyes… Surely they wouldn't want anyone with health problems?

He had come in late everyday, sleeping in at home, doctors orders. He felt like only half a man these past few weeks. And yet here he was, seated at his desk, earlier than anyone else on this sunny Wednesday morning….

Last night, he had come home early. Earlier than planned. He wished he hadn't now….

On the living room carpet, he'd seen Harriet, nearly naked and not alone either…. She had been with a solicitor named Joey…. Joey, like a singer in some pop band! He'd kept the horrible ill-fitting name as it was very recognizable…. As he was himself.

"Please have the courtesy to close your fly…" he had said coldly with a stiff upper lip, "and leave the premises while you're at it…"

Joey had left as quick as lighting and he and Harriet had remained, staring at each other. They hadn't talked, as Clive had quickly stormed out of the house too, finding himself a hotel for the night…

But today…. He knew they'd have to talk today… If not today, then tomorrow, or the day after….

* * *

Martha hadn't been to his wedding. She had been absent once more…

Clive had both been longing and dreading her presence. He would have loved to see her again, yet at the same time…

Harriet had been very pleased. She didn't need _her _to come and stir things up…

Martha's presence hadn't been needed for that though… She could do it quite well from a distance…

She was like a ghost in their marriage, a poltergeist, Harriet felt. An irking presence…. Always ready to disturb things.

Harriet had been happy at first, and Clive had sure seemed happy enough. But before long, it all turned sour. Harriet had wanted children, but he was very adamant that he didn't want them. Not long after, Harriet found out about Martha's miscarriage and began to wonder… Maybe Clive didn't want to have children with her?

She'd discussed the subject with one of her friends, one day: "We'd really be stuck together, if there are kids, wouldn't we? I'm not so sure I want that anymore…" Harriet had started to sob, and Clive, who'd been listening at the door, had felt his heart wrench…

This had all been his doing…. It stung that she didn't see him as a good father, but, deep down, he knew she was right… Children would not save their marriage.

* * *

Harriet came in looking rather tired that morning. Clive was glad she did. It affected her, at least, what she had done. In his first fury, he had felt like firing her, but his anger had already been replaced by a bitter feeling of loss. They had wasted years of their lives together…

He couldn't take her job as well, as their marriage was clearly doomed… She was a damn good clerk; it would be too great a loss for Shoe Lane…

In the afternoon, during some of the junior clerks tea breaks, he asked her to come up to his office. Harriet was shivering a bit…. Afraid of what was to come…

"Look, Clive… I am so, so sorry…" she said as she closed the door, tears in her eyes. He motioned that she should be silent. It was his turn to speak…

"It's time we put an end to this…. This charade…" he said, gesturing with his arms, a tremor in his voice. "Us, the marriage," he clarified, in response to her puzzled look.

"Just like that? I thought… You're not firing me?" Harriet wondered.

Clive swallowed hard. "I… I… You're a good clerk," he began, when she made a soft disapproving noise. "Practice manager, so you will," he corrected irritably, "…and I'm sure you'd make someone else a good wife too…"

"I though you'd be furious…" she mumbled, stunned at his lack of emotion.

"I am, but I'm too tired to shout right now…. And we're not at home…" he answered. "I don't want to see that Joey here anymore though…."

"He does bring in a lot of work…" she said softly.

"I'm sure he brings a lot to the table.." Clive replied acidly, "but not anymore… Unless you _do _want to change chambers?"

"It might be for the best…" Harriet whispered. "Will we be able to work together after this?"

"We might try…. We don't know what the future will hold, do we?"

Clive didn't tell her outright of his plans to visit Martha. Perhaps move to Bolton for all he cared… Or abduct her back to London… He could have rubbed it in, but that would happen all too soon anyway…

* * *

That Friday, only three days since he'd found her with Joey… he told her about his plans. He still couldn't look at the spot on the carpet where it had happened.

"Harry," he said, when she poured herself a glass of wine, unwinding from a full and horrifying week.

"Yes, Clive," she sounded tired and exasperated as she was fed up with fighting, worn out even. Despite his politeness at the office, they had done some shouting in the privacy of their own home. Accusations had been hurled like snowballs. Their marriage had been a sham, never the real deal…

Harriet had quite a few grievances herself. She'd asked him if he was sure when he'd proposed… She had sincerely hoped that he was the one… Privately, she wondered if she'd always loved him more than the other way around…

She had soon discovered that even with a ring on his finger, Clive didn't seem to belong to her…

"I've been thinking…" he began… "wondering if I should… go up North for a few days… Perhaps next weekend?"

"Doing what?" she asked, already guessing the answer.

"Visiting Martha…" he said, a little hesitant. "She hasn't heard about my heart problems yet and I wouldn't want her to find out via someone else…"

"There's no need to lie to me…" Harriet replied. "Just say what you think for once… We both already know the real reason…"

"Ok," he said, "fine… I want to see if… what I should have done years ago… If we're a good match…"

"Considering you haven't seen her in ages, and still whisper her name in hospitals first thing, I'd say your side is pretty clear…" Harriet took a large sip of wine. It was awful this… Him talking about her…

"Perhaps," he replied, smiling sadly, "but that doesn't say anything about her side…" He sighed deeply.

"I'm not… I'm not going to stop you…" Harriet whispered. "I don't think I can, even if I tried…" She began to sob.

"I've tried so hard…" she said, stammering. "My very best… and you… And then, I make one mistake…"

Clive awkwardly stroke her back. He couldn't really deal with tears, not from anyone. "I know… I know.. It's my fault too…" he said.

"And what if she doesn't want you?" Harriet wondered. "What then?"

"Even so…" he said softly, "clearly we're not meant to be…"

"We could have been…" she replied defiantly. "If only you'd really tried…"

"Harry," he said, slightly threatening, "there's no point going there… We've been over this…" Clive attempted to sound soothing, hiding his irritation.

"You want a divorce…" Harriet sighed, "and nothing I can say or do will change your mind…"

"Precisely… I'm sorry, but yes, that's where we're at…"

"I feel as if you're using it like an excuse…" she argued, "that you're using my cheating as an easy way out…"

"Of course not, don't be silly," he lied through his teeth. "Perhaps it was a bit of a catalyst, but we've both known things weren't right since that hospital business…"

Or even earlier, he thought. He never should have married her, that was for sure. She was quite entitled to feel upset and cheated as well. Cheated into thinking this, their marriage, was more than it actually was…

"It's like your punishing me…" Harriet continued, "making me pay…"

"I'm not… truly… Look, Harriet, I want this to be as amicable as possible. I'm not going to hurt your reputation and such… if you just grant me a divorce…"

"I can't persuade you…?" she pouted. "Is there really nothing I can do…?" She wondered if she should refer to some of their better experiences, make him see her side of things. "Not even.." she breathed suggestively.

"Harriet, no…" He spoke sternly. "Please, just leave me alone…" Clive hurried out of the living room to his study upstairs…

Why did she have to try? It only made things harder for the both of them…

* * *

Joey had taken to calling her. Harriet didn't want to be reminded of it, so she just didn't answer. It didn't really work, however…

"When are you going to get that?" Clive said, the following Tuesday evening. It was nearly a week later, give or take a few hours, when the sound of the ringing phone kept interfering their dinner.

They had called divorce lawyers and were discussing who should get what as far as furniture went. Harriet seemed to have, begrudgingly, accepted the inevitable. It was strange, still eating at the same dinner table, but not doing so seemed just as odd. They didn't have to avoid each other….and they had to learn how to relate differently to each other anyway…

"I don't want to get it…" she explained. "It's…"

"Joey?" he asked. Your own fault, he thought savagely.

"He thinks it meant more than it did…" Harriet said sadly. "Bit like you and me, really…"

Clive swallowed hard. That stung…

"You'll have to deal with it sometime…" he said. "Unless you want me to answer it…" he smirked nastily.

Harriet glared at him. "Thanks, but no thanks…" she sneered back. Both their tempers were not at their best as they clearly remembered last week's developments.

When it rang again, she left the table, answering the phone, "Yes, Joey…"

He immediately began to rant how it had taken him ages to speak to her and how he'd been told that he couldn't do business with Shoe Lane in the future…

Clive strained his ears in an attempt to listen in on the conversation.

"I think it's for the best…" he heard her say. "I am sorry."

Clive had expected to gloat at this particular call with his wounded pride enjoying every second of it. However, he felt strangely humbled. Harriet didn't seem to mind admitting her mistakes… He began to respect her a tad more; she dealt rather gracefully with the whole thing…

"Yes, perhaps I did use you…" she readily told him.

"Why? I…" she faltered. "I just wanted to feel loved again… to be seen, so you will… admired."

"Yes, I know I'm married. Maybe something was lacking… Yes… I am truly sorry…"

"No, we're getting a divorce… No, that doesn't mean…. I know, I shouldn't have led you on.. Bye Joey, take care…"

She sat down with a huge sigh of relief; her food had got cold. That hadn't been too bad, though admittedly not the best phone call of her life…

"Happy now?" she asked, quirking her eyebrows.

"That was… quite impressive…" He said, despite himself.

Harriet took it for sarcasm. "I know I'll never do anything right in your eyes anymore, Clive," she said, "no need to lay it on…"

"I wasn't… I actually meant it…" he explained. "It… well, it was gracefully done…"

"I don't know if that's really possible…" Harriet said, "I tried my best anyway…"

Clive nodded. She had.

"So what about that grandfather chair then?" he said, returning to the previous topic. "I know it's mine, but you seem to really like it…. I'll probably throw it away otherwise…"

* * *

It was Thursday evening. Clive would leave the next day. He and Harriet had mostly discussed practical things, but now… he felt as if he should say something… do something…

He rasped his throat… "So, tomorrow…"

Harriet cringed. She didn't need reminding.

"I suppose…" Clive was upset, but felt he had to say it anyway… "I just wanted to say… You've apologized for… what happened… and I feel that…. Well, I should be apologizing too."

Harriet's eyes grew wide. This was quite unexpected!

"I…" he faltered. "I knew beforehand…. I shouldn't have… taken it this far. I was angry that she'd left… and I did genuinely like you…. A part of me hoped that we would make it, but a part of me simply knew….that it might be impossible."

Clive took a deep breath. "So, I'm sorry. It wasn't just your fault… It's why… you know, when you wanted children…"

Harriet nodded solemnly; that had been the first clear indication that something wasn't right…

"I just couldn't let you go through with it…. And then you phoned your friend and…"

"You heard that?" she asked. "Wow… I didn't know.."

"That's when I knew…."

"Me too…" Harriet said. "I'd just been told… by John, maybe… I can't even remember… about the miscarriage and that you two had been dancing around each other for years… I knew in my heart it was a lost battle then…"

"And I confirmed it in the worst possible way…"

"I was so worried you were going to die or something… when I rushed to that hospital." Harriet remembered it like it was yesterday. "I felt so betrayed and hurt…"

"And then Joey appeared…" Clive understood only too well. It's what he had done whenever Martha rejected him, time and time again.

"He did want me… badly even…" Harriet replied. "I'm not proud of it…"

"Me neither…" he said. "Me neither…. It's why… I just want you to know… no hard feelings, yeah?"

She smiled at him. "Yes…."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

His heart ache had caused him to take action. He and Harriet were on speaking terms again. Both very polite and still a little awkward, but anything better than the shouting matches. Harriet knew she'd been defeated as Clive's lack of any real anger or rage told her quite eloquently that her marriage was indeed over…

"What do you hope to find?" she asked tentatively, as he put his luggage in the trunk, on the sunny though cold Friday morning. Driving would give him a chance to gather his thoughts and having the car with him would be quite pleasant.

"I just… I don't know.." he faltered. "Martha and I've gone from best friends, to competitors, to… total strangers…" Clive's voice broke.

Harriet remained silent. She couldn't be supportive of this particular mission… but did still feel for him. Seeing Clive cry was very disconcerting however, so she gave him a gentle hug…

"I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear, a final time, "that I couldn't be a better husband… You deserve someone else, someone better…"

"I'm sorry too," she replied, "I shouldn't have….with Joey. I was still so angry and hurt about what had happened at the hospital and he was quite insistent…"

"Let's be friends again…" Clive said, as he broke loose from her grip. "Please?" his eyes quietly hopeful.

"I'd like that…" Harriet replied, with a constricted throat, "Very much…"

She waved 'till he was out of sight, before she went inside to continue packing her things for a while before heading off to work.

* * *

Clive checked into a hotel, dumped all his things, and went to the court where Martha would be pleading her case. He'd soon found out the precise court room and quietly sat in the back. He could sense that the judge was waiting for a moment to adjourn. Clive didn't share his sentiments. It was good to see Martha again, so in her element… As far as he was concerned, it could go on forever!

But soon, far too soon, the court emptied, and Clive would have to act…

He'd moved to the corner of his bench, hoping to get into her view, shouting out would feel so foolish…

Martha was one of the last to leave. She'd have a busy weekend, preparing for next week, but was glad for the temporary respite. First, a drink… then perhaps…

Like Clive before her—before Harriet had successfully hooked him—Martha had been going from one dissatisfactory one night stand to the other. Some weekends, she just couldn't be bothered….

With her wig in one hand, and briefcase in the other, she made for the door. In the last bench, right next to the door, was a visitor. She remembered someone coming in, during her questioning of a very unreliable witness….

Martha peered at him. He resembled a slightly fatter, little more greyish…. She shook her head. She really needed to have her eyes tested one of these days… Martha hated growing old…

"Need a hand with that?" the man asked. Martha sighed. She was quite capable of carrying her own things, thank your very much! But she nodded, good manners and all that…

As she came closer, Martha suddenly realized… "Clive?" she wondered. "What? How come you're..?"

Clive stood up. "Hello Marth," he said, "thought I take a look at what Bolton has to offer…"

She snorted with laughter and rolled her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief. "Because it's such a charming tourist town, I suppose…" Her eyebrows rising sky high.

"Perhaps it's charms lie elsewhere…" he remarked cheekily. "You haven't changed a bit, Marth…"

He had, she thought, giving him a quick look. Paler, older…. Sadder too.

"How've you been?" she asked, suddenly curious.

"Perhaps better over a drink?" Clive invited himself.

"Sure… Why not?"

* * *

They talked about Shoe Lane and Bolton. Being Head of Chambers and all that entailed. Dancing around the trickier subjects, but when Clive stopped drinking after his first beer, Martha was very surprised, and not a little ticked off.

"We are in a pub, you know…" she said scathingly, "and it's Friday!" How dare he make her feel guilty about having a few drinks?!

"I know… I know, Marth… Believe me, I'm not trying to be a nuisance here…"

"Well, you are," she said, a bit pissed off. "I can't relax if you don't…."

"I'm not allowed…" he said, wondering if this was the right time, "that's all…"

"What? Harriet?" Martha grinned. "Has you eating healthy, cutting down on drinking, like any good ol' wife, has she?"

"Doctor's orders, I'm afraid…" he replied lightly. "Don't want to mess with them, do I?"

Martha's eyes narrowed. "Is there something you're not telling me, Clive?"

He sighed in return. Yep, this was it…

"A few weeks ago," he began. "Well, I collapsed in court… It was on Valentine's day, can you imagine…" He laughed bitterly.

"Are you all right?" she asked tentatively. "Clive?"

"It's my heart, apparently, not so young and cheerful anymore…"

"So… so what does that mean exactly?" Martha asked worried.

"Just, well, it wasn't as bad as they initially thought. I have to be careful, that's all. Take my medication, get check-ups, no more marathons for me…"

"No more drinking…" Martha added, "I see…"

"It's boring as hell," he lamented, "but I do want to stay alive, so, yeah…"

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know.." Martha felt a pang of guilt for biting his head off just now.

"I suppose I came here to tell you," he mumbled. "Didn't want you hearing from someone else…"

"It must have been a big shock…. For both of you…" she replied.

"Yes, yes, it was…" Clive wasn't sure if he should tell her about the scene at the hospital just yet. He longed to, but didn't want to be too forward. Although coming up here had been quite unusual in the first place.

They decided to meet up in the morning. Martha would give him the tour, not that there was that much to see in the industrial town….

* * *

Clive slept very well that night. He was hopeful for the morning and really needed the rest after such an eventful day. Eventful few weeks, come to think of it… He had been half afraid that she would still be angry at him. Perhaps angry enough to not even talk to him! Fortunately, that hadn't happened.

Martha, on the other hand, hardly slept at all. What was the meaning of this? Why was he here? She continued to toss and turn throughout the night.

It had taken her a while to build up a new life here, but she had succeeded. She loved being back home. Not that she had many old friends left, but she made new ones, and to simply live somewhere where everyone talked like her…. Where she'd see places and people everyday that she recognized, where there were so many memories…

"I really am becoming an old nostalgic…" she moaned, as she turned over again. Clive was her past. Symbolized London… A life she occasionally missed, but that wasn't her own anymore…

Sean McBride had first stirred these feelings inside her. His swagger, their shared past. It had hit her hard. Much harder than she could have guessed beforehand. His appearance in her life, Billy's disappearance out of it…. It had caused her to wonder what was left for her in London…

She could work as a QC anywhere she wanted and wasn't really bound to London. There was nothing here except for work and Clive…. Work she could find elsewhere, would have to anyway, now that Clive had won…

Clive hadn't been able to persuade her to stay… And not long after she'd left, he'd gone and got married to Harriet. Bridges burned for good.

Three years later, and there he was, on her doorstep… Showing up at court, cheerful and pleasant, like nothing had happened. She had wanted to fall back into the easy banter that they used to posses so much, that they had. It had been a lovely evening. They had had so much fun, laughing and joking. His news about his health had come as a huge shock….

He had told her that was the reason he had come to visit her. Martha wasn't sure what to think about it all and it was definitely keeping her awake!

* * *

The following morning, Martha kept watching him intently. She made sure they didn't walk too fast or too far. Clive noticed it, but kept his mouth shut. It was sweet of her, but quite unnecessary. He had learnt his limits by now. It had taken him a while to adapt, and while he really didn't want to, he knew when he needed to take it down a notch.

"It's not as bad a town as you make it out to be," he said, when they'd stopped for lunch. "Sure, it isn't London, but then again, what is?"

Martha smiled. "You're right. There's plenty to see and do and, well, it's home, isn't it?"

"Yes," he said, "so that's why I was thinking…. Perhaps this afternoon, we could do the Martha Costello tour... Her birth place, primary school, and so on…. Where did she lose her first tooth? Where did she learn her letters and numbers? Where did she first fall in love?" He winked at her.

"Bet you want to end at her current residence…" Martha laughed mischievously.

"Excellent thinking!" He grinned, raising his orange juice in a mock toast.

"Now, now, what would Harriet have to say about that?" she joked.

"Nothing much, I think," Clive replied, more serious. "Marth… I've been meaning to tell you…. We're getting a divorce, actually."

They both fell silent. Martha looked away from him whereas he tried to capture her gaze. She felt tears well up but didn't want him to see them. In a quick movement, she stood up and left the table, making for the ladies'.

"Marth!" he called out, but didn't follow her. Perhaps she needed a minute…

Or two, or ten….

Clive was waiting endlessly it seemed. He kept checking his watch and now, the waitress was looking at him as well… Quite accusatory too…

Martha heard him knock on the door. "Martha… You know I can't come in… Please come and talk to me…"

She looked in the mirror. Her make up still needed some fixing. "I'll be just a minute," she replied, a little hoarse.

"People are looking at me…" he pouted. "Like I'm some sort of horrible…"

"You are horrible…" she agreed. "Springing news like that on me… As if yesterday's revelations weren't enough…."

"Sorry…" he moaned. "There didn't seem to be a right time to tell you, and I didn't want to wait 'till tomorrow either…"

"So why are you really here, Clive Reader?" she asked, coming out the door.

"I wanted to see you…" he replied simply.

"And?" she asked, her arms crossed and looking him sternly in the eye.

"And…. I hoped… that you weren't angry anymore… About what happened…"

"Kicking me out, you mean?"

"I didn't kick you out… You chose to leave…" He argued.

Martha shook her head. "I didn't have an actual choice!" she pointed out, a little angry.

"You didn't have to go and hide all the way up here!"

His frustration rose… They weren't getting anywhere with this!

"I didn't want to stay in London," she spat, "and you could hardly wait to marry her…"

"I only ended up with her because you'd left…."

"Excuse me…" A waitress came towards them. "Could you please keep your voices down?"

"Fine, I'll pay, shall I?" Clive said, following her.

Martha went outside, seething with anger.

* * *

He came outside, looking weary and upset. Martha wasn't sorry for him one bit. It was his fault, all of it!

"You could have come here sooner…" she accused him, immediately continuing where she'd left of. "No one forced you to marry her…"

A pale Clive nodded solemnly. "I know, Marth. You think I don't know? It was a stupid, stupid thing to do…. To all of us. It's not as if Harriet is pleased with this mess…"

Martha calmed down a bit. No, she probably wouldn't be…

"So, what happened?" she asked, curious. How did their marriage fall apart?

"Where to begin? Just small things, lots of them. And a few big ones too…"

"She knows you're here then? And why?"

He nodded again. "Yes, she does. She isn't too pleased about it, but then she did just cheat on me with Joey…"

"That Joey?" Martha's eyes bulged.

Clive smirked. "Precisely…."

"Wow…. He…. He doesn't seem right for Harriet at all…"

"She was just… getting back at me for…."

"Oh, you cheated on her as well then…. No surprises there…" Martha replied.

Clive's eyes narrowed. "Actually, I wasn't. I haven't… Not even once…"

"Such restraint…" she mocked, "very unlike you…"

"If you must know…" His anger flared up. "I called out for you, when I…. when I woke up…"

Martha's eyes lit up. "You did?" she whispered, in complete shock.

"This stupid nurse right? He thought it funny to ask whom my heart belonged to….since it was Valentine's day…. So, I answered…" He swallowed. "I answered truthfully, still a bit hazy, and then Harriet came in, having overheard the whole thing…. I was absolutely horrified…"

Martha began to giggle.

"It's not funny!" he said. "It was quite awful, really…. And then the doctor came and explained things…"

"You'll have to admit; it's pretty funny…." she pushed.

Clive smiled half-heartedly. "Perhaps it's funny now," he conceded, "but at the time…"

"Right," Martha said, after she'd finished laughing. "You asked for the Martha Costello tour…so you're in for quite a treat."

She hooked her arm through his and began to guide him throughout the town.

* * *

Neither of them spoke of the bigger things that afternoon, such as love, or what to do next.

Martha had showed him the hospital where she was born, the shed where she'd had her first kiss… The street where she'd fallen off her bike and broken a finger… The park where she'd had her first ever beer…

They walked past her current chambers… Past the different schools she had attended.

"This really is your home, isn't it?" he had asked softly, when she showed him the street she had lived as a child.

"Yes, yes, it is… Very much so…" She had smiled sadly. "It's sentimental, I know… But, it's the truth…"

"I can see the appeal," he'd replied carefully.

"No, you can't…. None of this is you…" she'd responded, suddenly a little upset.

Clive had privately agreed. No, this wasn't him, not at all. But who was he? He was nowhere near justified in dragging her away from all this….

* * *

That evening, they walked back from the pub. It was still early. Martha not drinking much out of solidarity. When they arrived at the hotel, he asked if she wanted to come in.

"Better not…" she replied, holding both of his hands. "I think I've got a better idea…"

"Yours?" Clive asked, a touch of shyness in his warm voice.

"Mine…"

They silently walked to her house. It wasn't far.

It was a lot bigger than her London place had been… Clive immediately felt at home, though anxious for what would happen next… It had been over three years…

"I'll go and freshen up a bit, yeah…" she said, after giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "Just sit yourself down, make yourself comfortable…"

He did look worn out, she thought… Perhaps they shouldn't…?

Clive sat down on a small sofa, thankful for the respite. He closed his eyes and nearly drifted away. A small sound startled him awake again. Martha had slipped into a black negligee and she looked stunning in it.

"Come here you…" he whispered hoarsely. "Who are you and what did you do…"

"Shush… That's far too corny, even for you…" she chastised him, as their lips met.

"Suppose I am a bit rusty.." he mumbled, as she unbuttoned his shirt with a "and what do we have here…?"

Her sofa wasn't a good place for this at all, but neither of them cared as they were far too eager….

Clive cried it out, when Martha buried her fingernails into his back, firmly stating: "and that's for taking so damn long to get here…"

He literally bit back, finding that small spot where her neck met her left shoulder with a "shouldn't have left, should you?"

It had been both a power struggle and a homecoming, Martha thought later, looking at the slightly snoring Clive beside her. He had fallen asleep the moment he entered her bed, shoes still on. She smiled contentedly. Perhaps this was the reason people always seemed to herald make-up sex?

* * *

Clive woke up at the smell of fresh and warm bread. He looked around, realizing where he was with a jolt. So it hadn't been a dream…

"Morning…." Martha came in carrying a tray. "Slept like a baby, didn't you…?"

He nodded, still a bit sleepy, smiling sheepish.

"So did I," she said, a glint in her eyes. "Yesterday was quite interesting… Any more surprises planned for today?"

"Nope… That was my trick box…"

"Oww," she pouted, "I was hoping for some more…" putting the tray on his end table, unceremoniously climbing over him, back to her spot.

"I thought we could have breakfast in bed… but maybe you should earn it first…" she laughed.

"Oh, really?" Clive's eyebrows rose. "Need to pay my way, do I?"

Martha nodded solemnly. "Yes, that's the way it works…"

"Very well," he smiled, "first things first…" He pushed her back onto the pillow, playfully nibbling her ear….

* * *

"So, you'll have to go back tomorrow…" Martha said, taking a final bite out of her croissant.

"Trial on Tuesday, yes…" He replied. "Just a long weekend…"

"And…" she hesitated briefly, "when… I mean, if, of course…"

"Will I come back?" he guessed her question.

"I suppose we should try to figure out what…. I mean, I suppose it's fine if it was just a one-time thing…" she said, sounding utterly unconvincing.

"Coming up here every weekend will be a bit hard…" he stated, "but perhaps you could come down too sometimes?"

"You will be coming back for more then…" she teased, "for those Bolton charms…"

"Don't have that back at home, do they…?" he agreed, "so I'll simply have to…"

Martha was reluctant to let him go, so soon after he'd come back into her life. She was amazed at how much one weekend could change one's life…

* * *

"Ready for the trial, Miss?" her senior clerk asked her…

"Definitely…" she said, giving him a friendly smile. She'd probably had a good weekend, he thought, usually Martha wasn't the cheeriest on Monday's…

Clive enjoyed his drive back home even more. England's countryside had never looked better….

They didn't know how it would work just yet… Both at high positions, neither very willing to give that up… But at least they were determined to make it work….

After all, they'd both come to realize that absence does make the heart grow fonder.

* * *

His smile betrayed his feelings, the moment he arrived. Harriet couldn't remember when she'd last seen him smile like that…

"It went well, I see…" she greeted him.

"You can tell?" he asked, a little surprised.

"You've got a spring in your step, and a smile as big as…"

"It did… We got a chance to really talk about some things… and just, well, enjoyed being together after so long…"

"We better sell the house soon then…" she said, more down to earth… "giving us both our freedom back…"

"Yes, we better… I might rent for a bit… Not sure what will happen yet…"

Harriet looked at him. They could have made it work, she figured, if only he had actually wanted to…

"I may need a pay rise to get something decent," she claimed, "think we can work something out?"

Her big doe-eyes were almost flirting with him, in that same way, she'd always gotten him to do anything.

"Don't see why not…" he replied, "Shoe Lane's doing well enough…"

* * *

The divorce had been amicable and their work relation had barely suffered. It had improved, actually, since they didn't share a life anymore. Clive was happy with the decisions he'd made in that regard.

Harriet had set her eyes on a wealthy philanthropist she'd met at one of her charities. He reminded her a bit of Clive, but unlike Clive, he didn't have any hidden and important old flames. Harriet had made damn sure of it!

Martha and Clive travelled a lot between both places. Neither of them was giving in yet, although Clive had rented, rather than bought, a house, raising Martha's hopes. She'd told him that quite a few judges would be retiring soon up North, so he might just be lucky, one of these days….

* * *

A/N: So this was originally supposed to be the ending... still wondering about that.

I sometimes leave longer stories unupdated for a long time and that makes me hesitant to write longer stories (as the ones I have written often take a long time to finish and I still have quite a few unfinished ones waiting to be written). I love writing one-shots for the same reason because they're finished the moment you upload them :)


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